


From Light into Darkness

by TheDweeb



Series: FFXIVWrite2018 [13]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-4.5 release, Speculation, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDweeb/pseuds/TheDweeb
Summary: A desperate struggle since time immemorial, and one he had engaged in so many times. Would this finally be his fall?





	From Light into Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 19 for FFXIVWrite2018
> 
> (posted out of order, opps)

The scenes of battle played on in an endless chorus, pockmarking the land with small craters while the ceruleum blue fires of Garlemald raged and covered the earth in ash. It was the same song, the same dance, and even the same dance partner. Well, almost the same.

“This ends here, Warrior of Light. I will no longer allow you to interfere.”

Behind his draconic shaped helm Artevael breathed heavily. It was positively vexing how hard he was being driven still by this Ascian in Zenos’s skin. It was as if Rhalgr’s Reach had just been invaded and monstrous heir of Garlemald had just stepped through the smoke–their first meeting. Then and all subsequent meetings had ended with his defeat, and even their final battle had not seen him deliver the killing blow. Now not only was he forced to fight a nightmare he had thought laid to rest once more, but one of his worst enemies wearing that nightmare. At least this time he had damaged the man’s helmet.

He stared into the single cold blue eye through the red eyes of his closed visor. This was it. There would be no more chances after this fight. He would either win once and for all or Jasper would be visiting his parents to tell them where he was buried. It was not an ideal situation, but it was what he had and as always he would make the best of it.

Leaping high into the air, he called upon the strength of dragons from his soul crystal, and as he made his descent flames began to form at the point of his lance. The fire fanned out from that singular point, swirling around him as he fell, faster and faster, and then he hit the earth. An explosion erupted around the point of impact, yet Zenos merely withstood the shock and waved away the flames with a sharp cut from his sword that Artevael blocked, sending him backward rather than being cut clean through. Landing from a backflip, he took to the air in another jump, but rather than going for a dive he moved under Zenos’s sword, sweeping his leg and bringing his lance around but the other remained on his feet as he stepped back.

Artevael continued the sweep until he was standing once more, both feet firmly planted on the ground, and he met a downward slice with his own lance moving upward. He recovered first and turned his step inward, spinning in a circle with his lance giving him more momentum then moving in for a hard thrust. Zenos danced away from the attack, but he had felt the weapon find just the slightest bit of purchase on amor and so Artevael pressed his attack, taking a smaller leap into the air then bringing his weapon down hard. Unfortunately he was pushed back again, however instead of pressing in for another physical attack he summoned forth the spirit of the dragon that resided in his soul crystal and launched its azure, serpentine form at his opponent. As Zenos reeled from the unexpected blow, he jumped once more and began another dive that was deftly dodged as his window of opportunity slammed closed.

The pair stood apart from one another, Artevael’s chest heaving while Zenos looked as composed as ever. That he was in a body that should have been dead meant nothing, Art supposed, but then he had never quite understood exactly how Ascian possession worked. It was something to be pondered later as he caught movement from his opponent. Bringing up his lance for a quick guard if necessary, Artevael’s heart dropped to his stomach when he saw Zenos lift his sword and take a particular stance. It was the final showdown.

Sometime during their fight the clouds had rolled in turning an already dark night more black. Both men had their weapons raised, firelight from the battlefield glinting off their armor. It was probably similar to how Carteneau had been some five years or more ago, just with the glaring absence of Dalamud and only the pair of them.

They stood like statues forever poised and ready to strike, then it was done. Both warriors moved faster than the untrained eye could discern, and the clouds parted as they seemingly switched sides of the arena with no blow being struck. Then Artevael fell to one knee, his scaled breastplate cracked and his breath leaving him in one sudden blow. If he had touched Zenos the other man did not show it. Instead he activated his magitek weaponry and sent a wave of ceruleum flame at Artevael that he could not avoid in time which sent him flying and left him sprawled on his back, lance just too far from his fingertips.

“Her blessing can only carry you so far,” Zenos, no, Elidibus stated as he strode forward, helmet having cracked the rest of the way and a fresh line of blood over his brow. “Farewell, Warrior of Light, and know that all I do is for the same reason I have always done; the protection of this star.”

Before Artevael could utter a word in reply, could even reach for his weapon, the sword went through his cracked armor and pierced his chest. His eyes went wide, the revealed moonlight making them glow with an eerie shine, and then everything began to fade. There was no more breath, no more light in his eyes, and the moon faded from view while every inch of him grew cold. There was also a certain sense of peace that washed over him; he was finally free.

A feeling of familiarity washed over him, warm and inviting, and when he became aware he could make out a familiar glow. Hydalen was waiting for him, it seemed, and he wondered if She truly would let him succumb. Would She let him flow into the Lifestream, let him go to whatever Heaven or Hell that awaited him? Would he see Haurchefant once more? He was suddenly giddy with anticipation. He had never had a death wish, he had too many people important and still living for that, but now he was no longer bound by duty because what could even Hydalen do against death?

Just as he was beginning to revel in his newfound fate, he felt the warmth begin to recede. Something was wrong. The gentle, familiar glow was beginning to fade and then he felt it. Icy fingers, cold and sharp, digging into him and making him scream in agony. He saw tendrils of light reaching out, trying to grasp him–he even thought he saw a familiar hand reaching out to him–but whatever had him would not let go. Instead it dragged him back, away from the warmth and away from the light into the frigid blackness where all his senses were stripped away.

He did not know how long he traveled or to where. Time and space became meaningless with the only truth being the ice that pierced him to the core. It reminded him of Zenos’s gaze and he shuddered once before finally succumbing to whatever had hold of him. And, after what felt like an age, he felt his body still, become well and truly still. When he opened his eyes he was greeted with three familiar faces, one of whom was dark eyed and grinning wide.

“Well,” Thancred said as he held out a hand. “Took you long enough to get here.”


End file.
